Alright, here's chapter 4. Hope this is to your liking and please let me know your thoughts on my endeavors.

'Shit,' Investigator Leon McNichol thought. 'What a friggin' mess!'

And that pretty adequately described the scene at the Diet Official's estate. One senior Diet member mutilated and a missing, probably dead, little girl. Oh, yeah, and one obviously homicidal personal security model who was, of course, nowhere to be found. Leon knew this was going to be a hell of a night.

The call itself had been bad enough. He'd been standing next to the operator's desk when it'd come in, and it'd sent chills up his spine.

"Somebody help us, please!" the little girl's frantic voice had pleaded.

"What's wrong honey," the operator, that cute little Romanova girl, had replied. "What's happening there?"

"It's Jillian!" the child had screamed. "She's gone crazy! Please, hurry! She's killing my daddy!"

Nene'd swallowed, and said, "It's OK, honey, we've got your address and someone's on the way to help. But I need to know a few things, OK?"

There'd been a long hesitation from the other end, and, nervously, Nene'd repeated, "OK, honey?"

"Yeah, OK," the other voice, still terrified, had replied.

Nene'd relaxed visibly, and then said, "Great. Now, first, who's Jillian?"

No answer. Only frantic breathing.

"Honey?"

"She's, um, daddy's bodyguard," the little girl had replied.

Nene bit her lip, and said, "OK, I see. Is she a boomer?"

The little girl hesitated, and then said, "Yes."

"Do you know what kind?"

"Huh?" the other voice had said, confused.

"I suppose not," Nene replied. "Well, just stay put, um...?"

"Aiko. My name's Aiko."

"Aiko. Right. Don't worry, honey, help's on the way. Just stay on the line and-"

"She's here!" the little girl had screamed. Nene'd gone pale, and turned to Leon with a look of utter horror. Leon had only looked down at the floor and shaken his head.

'Aw, hell,' he'd thought, 'not again!'

"Jillian, no!" the little girl had pleaded. "I thought you were my friend!"

"No! Please! Noooooo!" the terrified voice had screamed. And then there'd been more screams, agonized this time, mixed with strange, wet tearing sounds and feral growls. And then there'd been silence.

Nene had bolted from the office, sobbing and retching at the same time. Leon had stayed for a moment, just long enough to see the data that she'd pulled up on the computer.

'Holy shit,' he'd thought as he saw the name and address. 'Shit's really gonna hit the fan over this!'

And, reading the boomer registration and ownership documents for the household, he'd grunted and thought, '33C. Well, that figures. Teach you to trust one of those things.'

And then Leon had left at a trot, heading for his waiting road chaser, thinking black thoughts about what he'd do if he got a hold of that murderous boomer bitch tonight.

Unfortunately, it hadn't happened that way. By the time Leon had arrived on scene, the first line squad had already cleared the house and grounds. Nothing but a dead man and a lot of blood and gore. No crazed assassin boomer, and no mutilated little girl. It figured. It just couldn't have been that easy.

After inspecting the scene, and looking over all the gory details, Leon sought out the forensics team, currently working on the dining room where Asakawa had died.

"Hey, Corporal Fusikawa!" he said in a friendly tone. "What the hell have you guys turned up so far?"

The slightly built young man turned, nodded to Leon, and said, "A hell of a mess, man. A hell of a mess."

"Yeah, I can see that for myself," Leon said, "Can you clarify that a little, though?"

"Hmmmmm," the other man said. "Well, now, that's always the hard part, isn't it? But this whole damn thing is pretty weird if you ask me. For starts, BU-33C's don't go nuts very often. They come stock with one of the hottest production AI's on the market, and they're pretty stable. In fact, they're just about the only androidial models still in production, and that's purely because of demand from folks like Mr. Asakawa here. You can bet there wouldn't be so much demand if they had a habit of slicing up their high-profile owners."

Leon frowned, and said, "Yeah, well, looks like this is the exception that proves the rule then. So what else have you found?"

"Well, the injuries look pretty consistent with a 33C's internal weaponry. Mr. Asakawa there was beaten and sliced up, plain and simple, just what you'd expect from a model like that."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Leon said. "Looked pretty rough."

"Doesn't it though. Popped the top of his head right off, it looks like. Those 33C's are ungodly strong for androids."

"Yeah," Leon replied, "I know. Trust me, I know."

"Oops! Guess you do at that."

"Bottom line, man," Leon said. "Is there anything here that tells us about the little girl?"

The corporal sighed, and said, "Well, nothing good, I'm afraid. You saw the blood stains on the wall?"

Leon grimaced, and said, "Hell, which ones? You've got to be a little more specific in this room."

The other nodded slowly, and said, "Those over there, not too far from the doors. Those aren't high velocity splatters or anything like some of the others, and genetic analysis says they don't belong to Mr. Asakawa. On-scene gene typing is really just a rough estimate, but samples from that stain are similar enough to his to be about what you'd expect from his kid. And there's a blood trail down into the basement and out that damned secret door, but the K9 guys ran smack into a creek not a hundred meters after the escape tunnel surfaced, and lost it there. Looks like she walked up or down stream carrying the kid."

"Shit!" Leon exclaimed. "Why the hell is the crazy bitch carrying the little girl around with her! Wasn't it enough to cut her up?"

"Hey, man, don't ask me," the corporal said. "That's the boomer psych-guy's department, not mine."

"Yeah," Leon said, "And speaking of him, where the hell is he?"

"On call, man. He makes the big bucks at his real job down at the university. This is just a side bit he does to gather thesis material. So he only shows when he feels like it."

"Yeah, I know all that," Leon said. "I just figured the cold-hearted son of a bitch would at least show up for one like this."

"Naw," the forensics tech said, "He's about as sentimental as most of the boomers he studies. Must really help him get inside their heads."

"Yeah, well, the hell with him then. So have you got anything else to thrill me with?"

"I don't know. Would you be thrilled if I told you she was injured?"

"Say what?" Leon said.

"Here, take a look at this," the corporal replied. "I found this over in that corner. Looks like it flew out of Asakawa's hand when he got sliced."

Leon whistled as the forensics man held up a plastic bag containing a very large pistol.

"Christ! Desert Eagle .50, isn't it?" he said.

"Yeah," the corporal replied. "Illegal as all hell, but what'll you bet if we look, his honor here has some kind of special license to carry it?"

"No bet," Leon replied. "No bet at all. So it looks like he winged her, huh?"

"Oh, more like he drilled her, I'd say. He was firing high-end cop killers out of that thing."

"Huh, armor piercers." Leon said in disgust. "Well, hell, it figures. A friggin' politician can get 'em, but can we? Anyhow, you say you think he nailed her good?"

"Looks like it," the corporal said. "A lot of that blood leading out of here is android blood. I think he nailed her."

"Well, that's something, anyway," Leon said. "'Course, if we don't find her within a couple of days, she'll be all healed up."

"Yeah, inconvenient that," the corporal replied.

Just then, one of the line officers, a young female trooper named ... Natomi, or something like that, Leon thought, stepped up and tapped Leon on the shoulder.

"Sir?" she said.

"Yeah, what's up?" he replied.

Somewhat subdued, and looking down at the floor, she said, "Ah, well, sir, it's the K9 teams."

"Yeah, come on," Leon said impatiently. "Let's hear it."

"They're packing it in, sir. They've been up and down the creek, at least a click either way, and they haven't picked up a damn thing."

"Well, shit!" Leon said bitterly, noticing that the younger officer was visibly holding back tears. "Are you okay, officer..."

"Natomi, sir," she said. "Officer Akiko Natomi."

"Right. So what's the deal? This is a shitty situation, but why are you so upset?"

She blushed slightly, and said, "It's just that, well sir, I have a little girl too. She's not as old as the girl we're looking for, or anything like that, but I just can't help thinking about- and I guess I- oh, hell, sir, I guess I was just hoping that they'd find her, safe and sound." Then, in a sullen tone, she said, "But I guess that's not going to happen, is it?"

Leon sighed, and said, "Hell, I hope it does as much as you do, but probably not. And it sucks. It always sucks, Natomi, but if you deal with this kind of shit long enough, you learn to cope. Now, was there anything else?"

"No sir," she replied.

"Fine," he said. "Then I guess you can go on about your business. And I, unfortunately, probably have a date with the chief. Just be glad you don't have to put up with that shit on top of all this."

"Right sir," she said, and then, smiling tentatively, "Are you going to be OK, sir?"

"Oh, I doubt that very much, Officer Natomi. I doubt it very much."

Nene sat in her rumpled ADP uniform, red eyed and hugging her knees on Sylia Stingray's sofa. She was very quiet, the only sound from her an occasional sniffle.

Sylia sat across from her in a comfortable armchair, a cup of herbal tea in her hand, as she thought about the story Nene'd haltingly related to her. Certainly it was horrible enough, and that it involved the death of a senior member of the Diet was disturbing to say the least. But she'd never seen Nene quite like this. Apparently, it was the first time she'd ever lost someone on the line. And that it'd been a little girl certainly hadn't helped.

But what Nene'd suggested... well, that was something else. Sylia could certainly sympathize with Nene's grief, and her overwhelming sense of the unfairness of the situation. But Sylia hated for the Knight Sabers to go off on half-cocked missions of vengeance. Oh, certainly it had happened in the past, but only when it'd been unavoidable for whatever reason.

Granted, this situation did look as though it might benefit from the Saber's expertise. After all, so far as anyone knew, there was still a crazed razor doll running loose through the city, probably enjoying her new found freedom by slicing up as many hapless victims as she could find.

The problem, of course, was simply the bottom line. Running an organization like the Knight Sabers required a lot of capital, and the expense of taking a hardsuit out for even a single outing was hideous. As much as she might sometimes wish otherwise, Sylia had to pick and choose their jobs very carefully. In this case, though, she was tempted for a number of reasons. Tempted enough to call the other Sabers in for a meeting, and a consensus.

Linna was the first to arrive, of course. Sylia knew that Priss would take her time. But Sylia was shocked to see Linna's reaction as Nene repeated her story.

As Nene had uttered the father's name, Linna had gone pale, and in a strangled tone said, "Asakawa! The Diet member?"

"Yeah," Nene said. "I know, it's crazy. But that's not the worst part. He- there was- his daughter-oh, Linna, it was terrible! I was on the phone with her and then-" but Nene couldn't go any further and lapsed into tears instead.

Linna, though, went even paler if possible. "Oh, no," she said, "Oh, my God, no. Aiko!"

Sylia sat up a bit straighter and said, "You knew her?"

Linna nodded slowly, a look of shock on her face.

"She- she was in a class of mine. She was such a good student! I can't believe- Oh, my God, why!" Linna shook her head slowly, tears sliding down her cheeks, and then lapsed into silence.

'Damn.' Sylia thought. 'This is looking worse and worse. I know what Priss will say, and I don't think team integrity is going to let me veto this.'

Of course Sylia was right. Priscilla Asagiri's reaction was all she'd thought it would be. After her initial, "OK, what the hell's it about THIS time?" Priss's attitude had changed quickly once Nene and Linna had recounted the night's tragedy.

"Shit!" she'd exclaimed. "What are we waiting for? And," she'd added, "don't give me any crap about expenses, Sylia."

At Sylia's raised eyebrow and slightly sardonic look, she sighed, and continued.

"I know how expensive a mission is, but how the hell can we NOT do this? I mean, if we never do anything just because it needs to be done, if the almighty yen dictates all our jobs for us, then how the hell are we any different from those bastards at Genom? And if that's the case, then why even bother? We might as well be working for them!"

Frowning, Sylia said, "Are you through, Priscilla? Or can you think of something else you'd like to bludgeon me with?"

Priss flushed slightly, and said, "Yeah, well, tell me I'm wrong."

Sylia shook her head slightly, and said, "No, in this particular case I think you have a point."

The others looked at Sylia expectantly as she sighed and continued.

"All things considered, I suppose I have little choice but to okay this. Considering the level of personal involvement here, I'd probably have to shoot you all to keep you away from this, and that would be rather counter-productive, don't you think?"

This was met by a nervous chorus of, "Definitely!", "Oh, sure!", and "Yeah, right, of course!" as the others tried not to consider whether Sylia was serious or not.

'Besides,' she thought to herself, 'you never know what might be locked up inside that boomer's brain. Personal assistant for a senior Diet member, after all. Maybe I'll be able to recoup some of our expenses one way or another.'